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Sunday, 3 November 2013

Running away

“Let’s go to Amsterdam!” announced my friend after
one too many glasses of wine, “we can run the marathon!” Over the years, I’d
received almost as many copies of that magazine from London Marathon as I’d
had drinks that evening and it wasn’t difficult to persuade me. What started as
an opportunity to spend time with friends on a jolly weekend away soon became a
bit of a habit and we organised several trips that would take in a bit of running too.

In a break from usual form, I ran two UK marathons earlier this year, so running
Frankfurt marathon with Jen, Laura and Liz last weekend was an exciting return to normal proceedings and an opportunity to
combine 3 of my favourite things: time with friends, sport, and a holiday.If you fancy a bit of race tourism yourself, here are one or two things I’ve
learned along the way.

Packing for a race away is much like packing for a
race at home, just with a weight restriction and the possibility of being
frisked. There are some essential things to consider when travelling to
pastures new though. For example, remembering to pack your trainers (and, if applicable, your sports bra) in your hand luggage: they are the things you won't want to be
replacing at the Expo when your hold luggage ends up on a flight to Svalbard.
You could, of course, wear them to travel, just remember to pack some spares:
it is generally considered poor form to board a return flight the morning after
your marathon smelling like a buzzard's burp. Offending trainers should
be hermetically sealed, or at least double-bagged in Sainsbury's carriers, and
buried at the bottom of your suitcase; if you can convince a friendly member of
cabin crew to dangle them from the wings, even better.

As the saying goes: when in Rome, do as the
Romans do. That is unless the particular energy drink brand at that marathon gives
you a squirty stomach and untrustworthy farts. Just as in any marathon, you're
advised to fuel up on what you're used to in training; the same, quite
miraculously, is true when you race elsewhere too, so take your race supplies with
you. If you’re taking hand luggage only then remember that your gels will form
part of your liquid allowance; it's up to you whether you prioritise them over your shampoo. Race day breakfast is another important
consideration: I’m a big fan of muesli and yoghurt, not just because I know I can
digest it, but also because it’s reasonably easy to translate in supermarkets
across the world.

If you’d like a supporter to join you on your
marathon adventure, remember to be honest. I heard a celebrity chef on the
radio last week, laughing about how he lied to his wife so that she’d come
along to his races abroad. The fact that he got away with it only leads me to
assume she was growing bored of his fancy nosh and was relieved to have an
evening eating a plateful of flaccid macaroni as she joined him in carb-loading
the night before his race. You’re better off just coming clean: this is not
going to be a way of treating your non-running partner to a romantic city break
in a glamorous European destination (not unless a long walk to a conference
centre, where you’ll queue to collect a number and dither over buying some
self-tying shoe laces and the latest anti-chafing runners' lubricant, is what
gets them in the mood). If your partner does come along to support, be decent
enough to flash them a smile whenever you see them on the course, no matter how
much you're wishing you'd Vaseline'd wherever you didn't remember to Vaseline,
and make sure you take them out for a proper meal afterwards to say thank you. Whether or
not you choose to show them your chafed bits afterwards is entirely your decision.

My German wasn’t up to asking, “excuse me, Sir, but why are you weeing on my leg?” when I ran Berlin
marathon; lucky, really, that the perpetrator was British. It would be churlish to
assume everyone speaks English though so, as a minimum, I do try to make sure I
know how to say “thank you” to the marshals and volunteers in their language. Jaywent one step further here and provided some handy race day phrases for any Paris marathon runners earlier this year; I sincerely
hope he’ll be expanding this to other languages soon. Over the course of 26.2
miles, you can expect to hear all sorts shouted at you by supporters along the
route: “Heia heia!”, “Lauf lauf!”, “Allez allez!” all generally mean, “keep
running, you fruit loops!” The most difficult interpretation, however, can
come from the pronunciation of the name written on your running shirt: “Yah
Katty!”, “Yeh Ketty!”, and “Wooooooo Kezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzneeeeeeeeeee!”, have all been shouted in valid attempts to pronounce my name overseas, and I was genuinely grateful for
each and every one of them.

When the race is done, it’s important to remember
that the local population’s interest in your marathon will wane as soon as the
roads reopen. If you’re lucky, the staff at the restaurant and bar will humour
you as you lower yourself gingerly into a chair for the evening with a medal
around your neck, but don’t expect the same treatment from the airport staff
the day after. There is always someone still wearing their medal in the
departure lounge but no-one will think you’re a hero if you set off the
security gate by waddling through wearing it and squealing, “Oh, this old
thing!” Pack it into your hand luggage instead and, you never know, it might distract
the supervisor from his cup of coffee long enough to trigger a bag search: you can then
assume the podium position, hands aloft like the champion you are, as you're unceremoniously
patted down.

Finally, if you're travelling abroad for a marathon, be
prepared to accept that your race is not necessarily your priority. While PBs are certainly not out of the question, flying to another country and staying in
unfamiliar surroundings may not be the perfect preparation; yes, the pros do it
but I'm sure they'd equally like to spend the evening at home in their own bed before a big race too. Instead, accept your adventure for what
it is, be that an opportunity to explore a new city, to spend time with the friends you don't see often enough, or simply to learn another new way of pronouncing your name. Run well but remember to have fun.